Freedom
by anna.burks.39
Summary: (takes place after the last book in the Giver series) When a nation arises and threatens the freedoms of every civilization in the known world, Jonas finds himself facing his past to save his future, Gabriel finds himself in love with the one woman off limits to him, and 13 year old Keena finds the family she never wanted.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

The hall was full, and warm and filled with a cheerful aura, making it seem much brighter than it really was. The loud boisterous and bragging voices of men, mixed with quieter more subdued prattle of their wives filled her ears so that thought was practically impossible. Her husband's favorite minstrel, who the noble men fondly called Flatfoot, was standing behind her, strumming rather lazily on his harp and relating a ballad about the heroics of the first King Carvel. The servants had created a handsome array of meats in front of her for the first course, she spied brawn with mustard, meat balls in aspic, ground meat in a spiced wine sauce, and some sort of meat fritter, the aroma of which was enough to make her drool and her stomach to growl. Her husband had spared no expense when it came to tonight's feast, and why should he? After all wasn't the whole point of tonight to impress, bedazzle and awe? Everything her husband owned, including herself, was to be polished and decorated till they shone with perfection. The feasting hall had been draped in its richest tapestries, the floor scrubbed clean and covered in new thrushes so as to cover the perpetual stench of the place, the tables were draped in golden clothes, and golden plates studded with jewels and engraved with images of some of Prasutagus' most celebrated heroes set in front of them to eat off of. She had been made to bathe three times, and her husband had made the personal 'request' that she wear the fine, rather flimsy, silk gown and ornate necklace that had been her wedding gift from her sister-in-law, the Queen of Ghawd. She had listened, as was expected, and tried not to feel too uncomfortable as the men gawked at her breasts, which the dress put on almost full display for her subjects. She was at least spared from having to apply any sort of cosmetics, for her husband thought it would be rather gaudy. She was also given the freedom to choose how to wear her hair and what crown to wear tonight. These small freedoms were ones she was always quick to take advantage of, for they were freedoms only granted to a Queen. Had she married some other noble, then even such trivial matters as hair and hair ornaments would be up to her husband's discretion. Still, even with the liberties granted to her, she couldn't help but feel like she was being put on show to impress the ambassadors, just as much as the golden plates and the decorated walls and clean floors. Her husband was showing off his greatest prize, his wife, who was often called the most beautiful woman in the known world. She sighed and motions for a nearby servant to pour her some more malmsey. The princess who was sitting closest to her on her left, turns to look at her with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright your majesty?" she asks her in a voice that is barely above a whisper.

"I am fine Esme, thank you for your concern. I do believe I am just tired." She smiled at the girl for her benefit.

"Is it the baby?" Esme asked, her concern clearly rising instead of abetting. The Queen felt her smile grow, and her heart went out to the child, so unlike her mother or father in every aspect possible.

"Perhaps" she answered "The Lady Questa tells me that it is common to be weary while the child grows, especially if it's a boy."

Esme's eyes flicker to her father's wife's ever growing belly "and the Lady Questa should know all about that" she says "she has had four boys of her own, and she younger then you."

The Queen laughs at her step-daughter's joke. It was true that her cousin, the Lady Questa who was sitting beside her husband near to the King looking radiant despite being seven months pregnant with what would be her eighth child, was very knowledgeable about the mysteries of pregnancy and child bearing. It seemed that she was always either pregnant or recovering from giving birth, and she was only twenty and five. Questa knew much more than she did, she who had in her ten years of marriage to the King produced only three live children, all girls, and only one had survived infancy, only to be taken from her by the plague at the age of three. The rest of her pregnancies had ended in miscarriages. Eight failed pregnancies, all marks against her, for what good was a wife that couldn't give her husband children?

Esme opens her mouth again but is forced to close it for at that very moment the King gets to his feet, motioning for silence. The Queen, following protocol struggles to get to her feet as well, pushing down the nauseous feeling that, with the pregnancy, accompanied her meals. Immediately every male eye turned from the King to admire her. She was used to being admired and leered at, she had been leered at by men since she was thirteen years old, she had once depended on men lusting after her. But now she was a respectably married woman, and a Queen no less! She wished it wasn't too much to ask for men to treat her with more dignity. Wasn't it bad enough that these men and women absolutely loathed her because of her past? A past that she spent nearly ten years trying, unsuccessfully, to forget? But it was far better she had learned long ago to be detested then to be detested and simultaneously lusted after. To have men hate that they wanted so badly to bed you, a whore queen.

But she had been raised better than to show her emotions. She may have been a whore, but she was also born the favorite child of one of the most powerful families in Prasutagus! She was the lion's daughter after all. So she smiled, graciously and let her eyes wander up and down the tables, forcing each man and woman to meet her silverish-gray eyes. Some turned away, and others glared, not even bothering to hide their disgust. But some, a very small number, smiled back at her. Among them her cousin the Lady Questa and her husband Eloi, who she had had known since childhood, her brother Jacques and his wife Veronique who was half Vandalese. Her husband's mistresses also didn't seem to harbor any hate, after all she had once been one of them. And of course the sweet princess, the only child of her husband's previous wife, who seemed unable to hate anyone.

"My lords and ladies!" her husband is speaking now, drawing the attention away from her. "As you all know, the Torths have once again broken the treaty of Umberlaund. This time they have invaded the borders of Aldshwin and raided the houses, taking any and every able bodied person, regardless of age or gender, and killing all the rest. Including children and the elderly and the helpless widows and wives deemed unworthy. But perhaps the ones killed should count themselves lucky, for their trials are over and they are safe in the arms of the Immortal Spirit. But those captured face a much crueler fate."

All around her she heard nervous mutters and angry calls for revenge. The young priest to her right, her new Pardoner, she thinks his name is Eloi, calls for the Immortal Spirit to strike the slave ships and deliver the captured citizens of Aldshwin. Her husband ignores the uproar and continues.

"I come to tell you that we are not alone in this new threat on our freedom! These good men have told me today that the Torths are striking out at Ghawd and Eeloth and Norðan and Brimhlæst as well, enslaving their men and women and children and mercilessly slaughtering the others. At first they feared that Torths were running low on their own grown supply of slaves. But it has since become clear that these barbarians are bent on conquest. They aren't just kidnapping our poor and wretched simply to restock. No they mean to obliterate us, to tear apart the kingdoms and declare themselves the sole civilization of the known world."

At this declaration the whole room broke out in angry and violent shouts. Men were on their feet swearing to destroy those monstrous abominations, shouting every curse they could think of at the Torths, and declaring their intent to shed blood. Something men always seemed keen to do. At their sides, the men's wives and daughters whispered among themselves, but stayed, as always, subdued.

Her husband held his hands up and immediately the crowd fell silent. All that is except for Gaston, the unofficial Duke of Oldoase, the domain of the Roland House. His brother Benoit, the true Duke, had recently been among the captured of the Torth pirates. Beside Gaston sat not his own wife, but Benoit's widow, Constance, who still held the title of Duchess, and would till it was made official that her husband was dead. She had to attend every gathering with her brother-in-law, something the Queen knew she detested.

"This will not stand!" Gaston was shouting. His cry was met with a "here! Here!" by the other men. "Torth must be stopped!"

"Agreed" Alain, who was the King's Abettor's son, the heir to the Dukedom of Aldshwin, and Questa's father, nodded in agreement. "I could deal with the Torths simply taking our Commoners, there are too many of them as is. But with the capture of Benoit and his platoon they have proven that we are at risk as well."

There were many murmurs of agreement at this, but just as many nobles glared at Alain. Eloi, Questa's wife, spoke up. "For shame Alain" he spat "the Commoners are just as human and as free as we are. They should not have to live in fear of having their liberties robbed from them."

_Yes the Commoners deserve to have their freedoms protected _the Queen can't help but think wryly _but not your wives. _

"As their lords it is our job to protect the Common peoples." Another man, the Queen's own brother Jacques, chimed in.

"Yes and if the Torths take us, who will be there to protect the Commoners?"

"Well if we just sit back and do nothing for them, then it won't really matter to them if we are here or not will it?" Eloi growled. "Where is your honor man?"

"Before you start to question my honor, I think you should look at your wife and recall who it is who you are speaking too."

"My wife is mine, she no longer concerns you. And I am not bound to service to you because you sold me your daughter! I am the Duke of Umberlaund! You are merely the swine of Aldshwin!"

"Why you little arrogant cock!" Alain was fuming, his whole face red and his hands were clenched into fists. "I will make you eat shit for that."

"Is that a challenge?" Eloi snarled.

Suddenly the men were shouting again, this time however it was not insults thrown at a common enemy, this time they were being thrown at each other. The Queen sighed, annoyed but not surprised. This seemed to happen every feast.

"That is enough, all of you!" she finds herself shouting over the raucous. "For the love of the Immortal Spirit that reins over all men, will you please control yourselves?"

At first only a few men heeded her command, among them her brother and Eloi and Questa's grandfather the King's Abettor. However once they sat and settled down, it seemed to have a ripple effect, for slowly the men started to cease their shouts and sunk sulkily into their seats, glaring at their queen.

Once the last man had settled down and she was sure she commanded everyone's attention she continued. "You men are worse than my wolves. No wonder Torth is having such an easy time taking our men. We are too busy bickering among ourselves to notice them slipping in."

A few of the men had the decency to hang their heads in shame, but most just continued to glare at her. Thankfully her husband chose that moment to but in, she didn't miss the grateful look he gave her. "My wife speaks true, you men are a pack of wild animals" he gestures to the men and woman sitting closest to him "we are entertaining ambassadors of some of the most powerful civilizations of the known world. Do you want them telling their rulers that Prasutagus is nothing more than a kingdom of bickering children?"

Now with the king chastising them, all the men began to sink in their chairs, utterly ashamed of themselves. Casting their eyes to their feet, murmuring their apologies to the king. The Ghawdian ambassador, who sat directly to the king's left, chuckled in amusement, but the other ambassadors looked shocked at the sudden outburst.

"Now, Gaston speaks true, something must be down about Torth. That, at least, can be agreed upon correct?"

There was a universal answer of consent.

"Ghawd and Eeloth have come to the same conclusion, my sister the Regent of Ghawd, has extended an invitation of an allegiance with us and Eeloth. She wants to march on Torth and burn the city to the ground."

"That woman should have been born a man" the Queen hears her Pardoner say to the man beside him. "She has more balls then her own late husband had."

"You say city like Torth is merely a small portion of one of our dominions! Like the armies of three kingdoms could fell Torth! Let us not forget that it is a known world superpower!" one of the men objects.

"Or that they don't have allies. Territories that deal in the slave trade would be loath to see their main supplier go."

Again there were shouts of agreement, but her husband was quick to silence them before they once again got out of control. "These are valid points. Torth is a very powerful nation, and let us not forget that they dabble in that dark magic they call technology. It will not be easy to defeat them. But Eeloth, Ghawd and Prasutagus are not the only nations of the known world to be threatened by this conquest. I have decided that I shall, personally, visit Vandal, Norðan, Brimhlæst, and all small independent villages and offer an alliance. I will also talk to some of the larger clans of Wandering People, and the refugee town they call Castel, and also the Communities Across the Sea."

At the last name the table once again exploded into shouts of shock and anger. The Communities Across the Sea, a misnomer since they were not across any sea but merely a large river that took a week to sail across, was a foreboding and isolated nation, that had cut themselves off from the rest of the world, both known and unknown, nearly eight thousand years ago. It was said that it was in those mysterious communities that the dark magic, technology, had been created, taken root and blossomed. So that the people could do unnatural things, such as fly, and cause animals to grow at accelerated rates, so that they could be consumed quicker. Some whispered they had even figured out how to tell the gender of a child as it grows in the mother's womb. They said that the Technology had sucked the humanity out of the citizens, so that they were emotionless and followed blindly wherever their leader took them. People feared the Communities Across the Sea, and with good reason, for if anyone should approach them and beg to be given refuge, they were killed, by some strange machine that made a loud bang and threw metal at them so quickly that it entered into the body and, more likely than not, snuffed out their life. It was also no secret that on occasion the beaches of Eeloth and Prasutagus would become clogged with the bodies of the elderly and babies. Each body wrapped in a neat little box, and the citizens would spend days hauling them out of the harbors and docks, and giving them proper burials.

"Your majesty you'll be killed!" one of the men shouted out. "No one approaches the Communities and survives!"

"No one has tried in nearly one hundred years" the king answered.

"Because we've all learned it's madness to try" the man insisted. All around him the men nodded.

"I agree" Royce speaks up "what makes you think the Communities, which has done all they can to stay out of the world for eight thousand years, would have changed in one hundred?"

"Because they have suffered" for the first time the Eelothian ambassador, a woman, her name was Colleen she was pretty sure, spoke, standing up from her seat to address the nobles and their wives. She was an ugly thing, the Queen decided, tall but built like a man, with a square face, heavy lidded eyes, a crooked nose and teeth two big for her mouth. Her black hair was chopped short and pinned back. This masculine appearance was fiercely in contrast with her dress, which was made of some sort of dainty fabric with a floral pattern, it was nothing but layers upon layers of frills with a wide skirt and a lace collar. "And Eeloth has already opened negotiations with them nearly fifteen years ago."

"What do you mean they have suffered?" a priest asks "has the Immortal Spirit finally decided to punish them for practicing technology?"

Colleen smiles and shakes her head "No, it was not divine intervention that brought them to their knees. It was a boy, a twelve year old boy who decided to flee from their borders with a baby."

"A boy?" Eloi asks, leaning forward, intrigued. "Colleen how-

"They don't speak of it much, they say we would not understand, but the boy was a pale eye, if that explains some things."

Immediately everyone, including the Queen, glanced at their King. He smiled and his own freakishly pale blue eyes flashed, reminding everyone that their king was more than powerful, he was one of the chosen. He could do things that other men simply couldn't, without the help of technology. He possessed power outside the natural realm of men, and it was that power that had won him, the illegitimate son of the previous king, the throne over his half-sisters.

"The Communities had trusted this child with a grave responsibility and when he fled, the consequences caused the Communities to be thrown into chaos. For years they all but destroyed themselves, thousands died, some even killed themselves to escape the consequences, not able to handle the changes. But somehow, through the grace of the Immortal Spirit, they pulled through, and rebuilt themselves, only this time it seems they are eager to open and establish communications with the outside world. They have been sending ambassadors to us, men and women. And we are led to believe that Castel is communicating with them as well."

At the mention of Castel the Queen finds herself breaking out into a sweat. It had been nearly fourteen years since she had visited the refugee city, but she could remember it like it was yesterday. A beautiful, peaceful place, with a cheerful loving people and an easy, rather slow pace. Nothing like the chaotic, violent turmoil of her own kingdom. She had been a girl then, fourteen, pregnant with her first child, before her marriage to the king. When she had been a mere mistress, an old prostitute that the king had taken a fancy too. She had fled then, knowing her child's life was in danger, and had ended up there, in Castel. In the care of a woman named Claire and her son Gabriel, who had been around her own age. She had stayed long enough to wean her daughter, and to name her Keena, about six months. She can still remember the pleasant, floral scent of the house they lived in, and the way Gabriel would laugh when she had tried to imitate their thick accents, for their form of the Modern Language was different than the one she had been taught. If she closed her eyes she could see Claire's gentle smile, that would make her green eyes shine all the brighter. She remembered the others who would visit her then too. A man named Jonas who seemed to know everything, and his wife Kira who had a twisted leg and walked with a limp. Their three little ones, the youngest of whom had been Keena's age. Gabriel's beautiful sweetheart Deidre and her brother Nathaniel and sister Rose. They had all been so loving toward her, and the baby. Willing to teach her their language and customs and treating her as if she was one of their own. No one had called her a whore or spat at her when she walked by. No one tried to marry her off, or claim her as their property. In fact none of the women were treated as property. They had been given the same liberties as the men, and many of them worked alongside their menfolk and dressed in their clothes and lived on their own without a husband or father or brother to watch over and protect them. The Queen had loved Castel, and it had been hard for her to leave it when the time came. But she could not forget the prophecy, could not forget the role she was destined to play. And so when Keena no longer needed her breast to feed on, she had slipped out in the night, after giving her beloved daughter (that she would not let herself think about, not anymore) a kiss goodbye. Her daughter was safe from the king's wrath and fear, and just as predicted the Queen had died shortly after she had returned to Prasutagus. The king had then claimed her as his second wife and she was crowned Queen and the first half of the prophecy had been fulfilled.

She had always been rather content with her life then. She was Queen, the one woman in Prasutagus that was regarded as a person in her own right, and not the mere chattel of her father or husband. Better yet, her husband was rather lax with her, and she had been granted several privileges that her predecessors hadn't. She was allowed to engage in politics, to make public speeches and appeal to the justices, with the exception of special occasions such as this, she was allowed to choose her wardrobe and accessories. Best of all he rarely visited her bed chambers or summoned her to his anymore, for he was far too busy with his mistresses at night.

And she was also soothed in knowing that her daughter was safe. The king knew of Castel but thought little of it, and had never attempted to establish communication with it. He'd never have to know that, contrary to what she had told him, his daughter was alive, nearly a woman of fourteen now. He'd also never have to know that his daughter had inherited his eyes, the mark of a chosen one.

Or at least she thought he would never have to know. She hadn't planned on the Torths threatening her husband so badly that he would suddenly consider Castel a possible ally.

Around her the debate surrounding the Communities continued, but she no longer cared about what was being said. She caught things like "should we even consider aligning ourselves with a people that practice technology?" and "Think of how much easier it would be to destroy the Torths!" but she could no longer concentrate on the conversation, to process what was being said. All she could think about was the little curly headed child she had left behind in Castel. About Fabien's warning, that if the child was discovered by her father the prophecy would not come to pass. About Claire's gentle smile and Gabriel's easy laugh. Things she had not let herself think about for thirteen years suddenly came rushing to her brain, and made her heart pound and her stomach flutter. The child inside of her stirred as if startled awake by the changes in her body's natural rhythm.

Finally her husband seemed to notice her discomfort "Desiree?" he says, looking concerned, he moves from his end of the table and with surprising agility moves to her side. "Are you alright my love?"

She smiled as best as she could and nods "I'm just tired my dear, the baby simply sucks all the energy I have out of me. I would like to rest if it is alright with you."

"Of course" he says, reaching out and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We will speak in the morning." He turns and motions to the beautiful woman who had been standing behind him across from the table. "Kameke, take Desiree to her chambers."

Kameke doesn't speak, but smiles and does as she's told, coming over and taking her by the arm, leading her away. Immediately the men and women stand up and as she passes by, they bow as is expected of them, albeit very stiffly, for they hate bowing to a whore. Normally she would have lifted her chin and walked with her head high, never missing an opportunity to snuff these men who had once mocked her as she roamed the streets, struggling to survive. But now she doesn't even notice the men, or their hateful looks or their wives contemptuous faces. Instead she keeps her head bowed low, images of Castel flashing through her brain, images of her baby, of what her husband was capable of doing to her, to their only child, if he sensed her as a threat to his crown. And all the while the prophecy of the dying old man rings out in her ears.

_A whore shall be set above the rest, a daughter shall steal the crown from her father, and the world will look to a child for deliverance. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Village was buzzing with excitement, the normally slow and happy pace of the small refugee community was suddenly shot with a new sense of urgency and commotion. For today was the day that most Villagers, especially the children, looked forward to all year: the Winter Festival of Lights. No one really knew how the holiday got started, although everyone had their own opinions and theories, but everyone agreed that the holiday was indeed a great idea. School let out early, the workshops were closed, the platform for meetings saw its four walls slid into place, the great hall where winter gatherings took place was decorated with wreaths of evergreens, holly branches, and other sorts of odd decorations, the fiddlers and flutists, and all other musicians spent all day practicing and rehearsing and warming up, and men and women alike slaved away in the kitchens, preparing all sorts of delectable treats for tonight. Meanwhile others, mostly the children, worked hard on the candle holder for the family candle, painting it or gluing stuff onto it, chattering excitedly among one another, and all the while the people would sing. Singing was so common in Village that it was actually considered strange for a person to be somewhere and _not _hear someone or more commonly, someones, singing nearby. People sang all different sorts of songs, and for different reasons, songs were sung for mourning, for celebrations, for working, for showing off, sometimes even just for your own amusement, but it was well established that _everyone, _even the most untalented of vocalists, sang and usually rather loudly. Today was no exception, in fact the holiday required more frequent and loud singing, so that Gabriel, walking home that afternoon with presents for his children, heard nothing but the joyous melodies wafting out of every house, coming together to make a surprisingly harmonious noise. He sighs, his breath visible as little puffs of steam in the freezing weather, and stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets, where he's hiding his new presents. A set of carved horses for Margret, who wanted them for her animals on the arc collection, a new paint set for Isabelle who had been complaining that her current set was getting to low, a teething ring for Noah, who was gnawing on just about everything, and for Keena a slip of paper that instructed her to go to the stables for her present. The girl had been begging him for a horse of her own, tired of riding on the tired old mare that his sister would lend her. So when he had heard that Lyndon was selling his young stallion, a pure white courser named Whisper, he had made a mad dash straight from his workshop to Lyndon's stall at market and offered a new bedroom set of furniture in exchange for the horse. It had been hard keeping the knowledge that he now owned Whisper from his highly curious and observant daughter, who visited the stables nearly every day, but Gabriel had managed it. And after today there would be no more need to keep it secret. It was the Festival of Lights after all, a day made for gift giving! He couldn't wait to see the looks on his children's faces when he handed them their presents, it's what he had been looking forward to for weeks now.

"Hello Uncle!" a familiar voice roused him from his reverie and he looked up to see Emma, the daughter of his brother-in-law Nathanial, waving at him from her porch. At her side was her two brothers Brent and David. They were gathered around their clay candle holder, with faces covered in paint, and flowers and cut out paper snowflakes strewn about them. He grinned and waved back, coming to a stop at their gate.

"Hello Emma, Brent, Dave. What do you have there?"

"It's our candle holder" Emma, she was nearing her eighth birthday now, the same age as Margaret, giggles. She's got a streak of red paint across her forehead and another splotch of blue on her nose. He knows that their mother was going to have a fit when she saw them, and that Nathanial would just laugh and make some remark about how he had once had the same problem with paint. It was a problem he shared with Deirdre, who could never be around paint without somehow wearing it.

Thinking of his wife, Gabriel suddenly sobers and he winces in spite of himself. She always loved the Festival of Lights, it would be all that the she would talk about for weeks. He can see her now, dressed in one of her favorite dresses, one that always managed to make her look both classy and seductive, with her long dark hair loose usually weaved with ribbons, singing at the top of her lungs while she dressed up the children and combed out Keena's untamable curls. Later that night she would join the musicians on the platform, singing her favorite Festival songs, and then dancing the rest of the night away with him and the children, laughing the whole while. This was only the second Festival of Lights he had had to spend without his wife, and he was finding it was still hard to do. He hadn't even wanted to roll out of bed this morning, it didn't feel right not having her there to poke and prod at him and remind him what day it was (she would always act like such a child in the morning). When Keena had handed him her brush and asked him if he would brush out her hair he had nearly burst into tears, and told her to ask his mother instead. He wondered if it would ever get any easier, not having his wife with him on important days like today. He doubted it ever would.

"Are you alright uncle?" Emma asks him, reminding him that he was the presence of company. He forces himself to grin again, for his niece's benefit.

"I'm fine Emma sweetheart. But I must be off, I've got presents to deliver."

Emma nods, her own sweet smile returning "My parents already gave us ours. I got a new doll and Brent and Dave each got wooden swords."

"That's wonderful" Gabriel replies politely, though he wished the parents would stop giving their children play weapons. It only encouraged violence. Perhaps he should speak with Jonas on the subject, Jonas had much more influence over the Villagers. Wishing the children a good decorating, and reassuring them that both he and Keena would be at the feast tonight, Gabriel continued on his way to his own home, which was adjacent to his mother's birthing clinic. It was a small house, and he knew eventually he'd have to move into a bigger place, for despite only having two bedrooms it now housed six people. Keena was nearly fourteen years old now and desperately needed a room of her own. While Gabriel had given up his bedroom to his mother, taking up sleeping on the couch instead. But small or not small, it was their home, and they did well considering the circumstances.

Gabriel was surprised to find a guest standing at the front door, her arm raised, ready to knock. The other hand clasped firmly to her walking stick. "Kira!" he called out to the woman, his dreary spirits lifted, if only a little by the sight of Jonas' wife. The woman spun around, startled.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked him in her soft quiet voice. Anyone who didn't know the woman well would have thought her rather puny. She was petite, despite having had four children, and had a frail sort of look about her, so that one might be afraid just to touch her for fear of ruining her. She walked with a bad limp, being crippled by a leg that had grown inward, twisted and hopelessly useless. She spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper and spent most of her time sewing and weaving and cooking. It was hard for people who had just met her to believe that this woman had once brought down an entire government and led her hometown through a revolution, freeing women from their oppression and turning the class system on their heads. But spend five minutes with the woman and you'd see why she was anything but a dainty housewife. The woman had the determination of a bull, the wisdom of a crone, and the ability to persuade anyone to support her and her causes, which she was always throwing herself tirelessly into. There really was no wonder that she was the most respected and revered woman in Village, perhaps as beloved as her husband. Gabriel adored Kira, and thought Jonas couldn't have found a more perfect wife if he searched every corner of the worlds known and unknown. The two were peas in a pod, and utterly devoted to one another, even after all these years.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Gabriel laughed now, wrapping the woman into a big hug. "Aren't you supposed to be making the best pies in the known world right now?"

She chuckled at his remark and returned his hug, though she only used one arm and kissed his cheek briefly. "Annabelle is actually finishing them for me right now. I came over to get Isaac, I think he's here anyway. I can never keep track of that boy anymore."

"I don't think anyone can Kira" he meant the remark as a joke, but he can see that he's said the wrong thing. Kira looks worried, her face and body taught. "What did the boy do now Kira? Don't tell me nothing either, I can see it written all over your face, he and Jonas got into another fight didn't they?"

Kira sighs "You are too good at that, are you sure you still can't veer?"

Gabriel grinned "I lost that ability two years ago. But I don't need to veer to tell what's up. You are as easy to read as a book. So spit it out, what happened?"

"Well, this time it was over Gray Frost. He bit Jonas-

"Bit him?" Gabriel arched an eyebrow. Kira nodded

"Yes, but not bad, not enough to leave any real damage. It was a warning bite. Anyway Jonas threw him out then and told Isaac that Gray Frost was no longer welcome in the house and-

"Let me guess Isaac wasn't going to have that?"

Kira nods again "We woke up this morning to find Gray Frost in Isaac's bed, curled up with him. The boy had snuck out last night and brought the wolf in. Jonas is furious, Gabriel I've never seen someone who could get to him like Isaac can."

Gabriel sighs, thankful that so far his children didn't give him as much trouble as Isaac gave his parents. The boy was Keena's age, thirteen, and was the youngest of Jonas' children, his younger sister Rosemary had passed away after a two year bout with some mystery sickness. The boy had been born profoundly deaf, which had originally led many to believe the boy was also simple minded. But that couldn't be farther from the truth, the boy had inherited his father's intelligence. Working with some of the other deaf members of the village Jonas had invented a language for Isaac, one that used hand motions and facial expressions to communicate. Isaac had taken to the language quickly, and with it Jonas and Kira had been able to teach the boy to read and write and do arithmetic and other sorts of things just as easily as they had been able to teach their other children.

But as time went on the boy started to show that besides being highly intelligent, he was also rebellious, at least with his father. Ever since he had grown out of diapers and developed some sort of independence, it had been a battle of the wills between his father and him. Jonas was normally a mild mannered man, hard to anger, and nearly impossible to frustrate, but he also expected his children to acknowledge his authority over them, at least while they lived in his house. Isaac on the other hand refused to accept anyone's authority but his own.

Though Jonas never says so, Gabriel had a feeling that he was quite hurt by his son's utter rejection of him as the father figure. The man had tried, on several occasions, to patch things up with his son, giving him presents and trying to take him out on father and son outings, two years ago Jonas got Isaac a half wolf half herding dog puppy because the boy had wanted a pet, but instead of trying to meet his father halfway, Isaac usually ended up ignoring his father's efforts or turned the efforts against Jonas. Finally, after years of trying, Jonas had simply given up and let the boy run wild, which Gabriel was sure was a big mistake. Isaac meant well, but if left unchecked he could cause problems. The boy was already showing an inclination to handling problems confrontationally, and sometimes resorted to violence. It made Gabriel uneasy.

"Come on" he tells Kira, patting her shoulder reassuringly "let's go see if we can find him."

They open the door to a rather comforting scene. His mother is sitting on the floor, Noah in her lap, Margaret and Isabelle sitting on either side of her, all working together on the Family candle. Isabelle the eldest was using her developing artist skills to paint images on the candle, while Margaret cut out shapes on paper. Noah, only two, stared at his sisters with wide brown eyes, sucking solemnly on his thumb.

Not far from the gathered group sat Keena, a book open in her lap, as if she had the intention of studying. But instead she playing with Gray Frost, Isaac's dog, giving him a belly rub and speaking to him in a high pitched, baby voice.

Gabriel only had a moment to take all this in, for almost as soon as the door was swung open the children all looked up and grinning began to shout. "Papa! Papa's home!" Margaret and Isabelle immediately get to their feet and rushed over, throwing their arms around their father's legs. "Papa we've been painting the family candle." Margaret tells him.

"Oh you have, have you?" Gabriel swung the little girl up in his arms. "What's it going to look like this year?"

Isabelle answers this question "This year I painted us on the holder. It's going to be a family portrait."

"Is that so? Well I can't wait to see it" he smiles and nods at his mother who returns the gesture. "And what about you Kiki? What have you been doing?" Gabriel addresses his eldest daughter.

Keena technically wasn't his natural daughter. She was the daughter of some mystery girl that had shown up at his mother's door nearly fourteen years ago. She had stayed with them for a time, six months maybe, and then she had disappeared again without a trace, leaving her infant daughter in Gabriel's care. But while Keena may not have been his, he still thought of her as a daughter, still loved her as one. And by the way she treated him he gathered she thought of him as a father, though she normally referred to him as Gabriel and never papa.

Now she looks up at him, her pale striking eyes mirroring his own, and shrugs nonchalantly "I was just reading this book, but then Isaac came over so we were talking."

"So Isaac's here?" Kira asked her. The girl nodded. "Where?"

"In the kitchen. He's getting Claire some tea." Keena returned to playing with the wolf-dog.

"He offered to get Claire tea?" Kira looked confused.

"No" Keena answered with a laugh "We played rock, paper, scissors and he lost."

"Ahh that sounds about right"

At that moment, as if conjured by some sort of magic, Isaac came through the side door that led to the kitchen, a mug in his hands. He stops and scowls when he sees his mother. Kira scowls back, like her husband she is unwilling to have a disrespectful child. The rest of the room falls silent, the cheery attitude turns to tense apprehension. Everyone was watching wearily to see what might happen. Sometimes with his mother, Isaac went down without much of a fight, other times it was a blood bath of sorts, but almost always Kira came out on top. She wasn't a woman to be crossed, least of all by her offspring.

For a few brief moments no one breathed. Isaac continued to scowl but moved to Claire, Gabriel's mother, and handed her the mug. Claire smiled and nodded her thanks, but Isaac wasn't paying attention to the woman. Instead he had his hands up and in front of him, signing.

_Is father home? _He asks his mother. The woman shakes her head tersely, then replies using her free hand, the one that wasn't clutching her walking stick _No, luckily for you he's been called to give some advice. _

_When will he be back? _

_I don't know. Stop looking at me like that young man. I had nothing to do with you and your father's spat. _

_You sided with him. _

_Because you directly disobeyed him. _

_He kicked Gray Frost out! _

_The dog bit him Isaac. Jonas was frustrated and angry, but if you had given him time to cool down you know he would have let Gray back in. You know your father better than that. _

Isaac snorted but made no reply, his anger seemed spent. _Please come home? _Kira asks.

_Are Annabelle and Matthew there? _Isaac responds. Matthew and Annabelle were Isaac's two elder siblings. Matthew, at seventeen, was nearly a man now, recently finished with school and taking up the vocation of guide to newcomers, he was rarely at home anymore. Annabelle, at fifteen, was on her last leg of schooling, and spent most of her free time painting and sketching, both of which she had talent with. It was Annabelle that Isabelle often went to for art lessons after school. Unlike his parents, Isaac was very close to his siblings, and they in turn were protective of him.

_Yes. Matthew is putting the finishing touches on the family candle, and Annabelle is helping me bake the pies. We could all use your help. _

Isaac looked a little dubious about that statement. Though his family tried hard to make sure that he was included in everything, they sometimes let Isaac's deafness keep them for letting him help around the house, even on days like these.

Kira, however, pushed _Come on Isaac, it's the Festival of Lights. _

At last Isaac relented, giving a sigh, he nodded his consent. _But only if Gray can come with. _

_Of course. _

Isaac turned and snapped his fingers at the dog, still enjoying a belly rub from Keena. At the sound Gray Frost immediately got to his feet, his ears perked and at attention, and came to Isaac's side. He wasn't a very attractive creature, a thick coat of gray and white mottled together, the head of a herding dog but the body of a wolf, he had a serious overbite, and a nitch in one of his ears from where he got into a fight with another dog. But Gray Frost was as loyal as they came, and highly intelligent, which made up for his lack of looks. Plus, and perhaps most importantly, Isaac adored him.

_I'll see you at the feast? _Keena signs to her friend. Gabriel notes for the first time that his daughter looks a little anxious. Her eyes flickered from him to Kira and then to Isaac.

_Yeah, but only if you promise not to ask me to dance like you did last time. _

_ Oh please you totally enjoyed yourself. _

_ I totally did not! Keena, I can't hear music, how can you expect me to keep up with something I can't hear? _

_ By following me. _

Isaac rolled his eyes, but Gabriel didn't miss the suppressed smile. Isaac would never admit it, not even perhaps to himself, but he loved Keena, no doubt he'd follow the girl to the ends of the earth. _Whatever Keena. _Isaac signed _I'll see you later. _

Keena grinned at him, truth was, Keena was pretty devoted to Isaac herself. _Yeah see you. _

Kira chuckled and leaned in toward Gabriel "Is it just me or is this the beginning of a romance?"

Gabriel grinned "Only time will tell."

The woman led her son, and her son's dog, out the door, managing to wave a quick goodbye to Gabriel and the children. As soon as he heard the door click behind them Gabriel turned his attention to Keena.

"So. What did he say about his father this time?"

"Huh?"

"Isaac. He got into another fight with his father this morning."

"He did?" Keena seemed confused and a little distracted. "What about?"

"You mean he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well" Gabriel set his daughter down. She scampered back over to her grandmother, followed by the other. They sat back down and calmly resumed their candle making. "It seems that last night Gray bit Jonas and he-

"Oh that" Keena interrupted, closing her book and tossing it boredly to the side. "Is that what they were talking about just now?"

"Pick that book up young lady and put it back where it belongs."

Keena stuck out her tongue but obediently picked up the book and did as she was told. So far none of her best friend's rebellious habits had rubbed off on her, thankfully.

"So what did you two talk about if it wasn't about his father?" Claire suddenly speaks up, reminding Gabriel of her presence. His mother was a naturally quiet person, preferring to watch things instead. However sometimes here curiosity got the best of her and she'd ask a question.

"Oh…..umm….just you know….things." Keena shrugged.

"What kind of things?" Gabriel asked.

"Copley things?" Claire teased her granddaughter.

"Huh?"

"Was her professing his love for you?"

Now Keena wrinkled her nose in disgust "Eww. Maman he's like….my brother."

Now it was Gabriel's turn to laugh and tease the girl "That's what Dee used to say about me."

There she was again…Deirdre. He'd have to learn to stop saying her name so much, every time he did, all it caused was pain. He'd feel it, and he'd see it on the faces of his children. Though Keena was never as close to Deirdre as she had been to Gabriel, he knew she had loved and admired her, the only mother she'd ever known. It had been devastating for the girl to lose her, she had locked herself in the room and sobbed for nearly a week straight. As for the girls, just the mention of their mother's name brought tears to their eyes. They were still too young, both of them, to truly grasp what had happened to his wife. All they knew was that mommy had had Noah and never came out of the birthing room again. Sometimes he'd catch little Margaret peeking into the room in the clinic, searching it, as if she thought her mother was hiding somewhere inside. At night he can still hear Isabelle crying for her mother in her sleep. Only little Noah, who had never known his mother, seemed unaffected by her passing. At the mention of her name he simply reached out with his little grabby toddler hands and tried to snatch the family candle, making a face when Claire gently restrained him.

"Isaac's just a friend Gabe" Keena says after a moment, an effort he knows on her part, to break the gloom at always accompanied Deirdre's name. "And we were just talking about what he got for the Festival of Lights."

Gabriel can tell she's lying, Keena was a horrible liar. But he also knew now wasn't the time to call her out on it. So instead he smiles at her and pats her shoulder reassuringly.

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Keena knew she could trust Gabriel with her secret, with the strange happening that had taken place last week, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him….not yet anyway. It would only upset and worry him, and ruin his Festival of Lights. As if having to go through another year without his beloved wife wasn't killing him enough. No, Keena decides she'll wait till later, maybe tomorrow to inform him that she had discovered a new strange gift that she possessed. Isaac knew, and that was enough for now. She watches as her guardian kneels down beside his daughters, across from his son and mother, and begins to ask questions about the candle holder. She can't help but admire him for his tenacity, and his devotion. It was hard for him, a single father, raising four kids and assisting a mother, all without the help of a companion. She heard all the Villagers whisper about it, about how two years was enough, that he needed to find another wife. But Gabriel seemed in no hurry to get married again, if at all. Keena's not even sure she's seen the man pay any pretty young lady any special attention since Deidre's death. Instead he had thrown all his energy into raising his family. Providing for them by taking up a job as a carpenter, making furniture to be sold and to be traded with the Eelothian merchants that stopped by every now and then. He also made sure that he spent plenty of time with each of them, individually and as a group. So that they never had to feel like they had lost a father along with a mother.

But all this work has taken a toll on him. In two years it seemed he had aged ten. He was only twenty-nine but he carried himself like a man of forty. His eyes were sunken in and there were lines on his face. He was no longer the handsome golden man that had swung her up on his shoulders as a child and paraded her about Village, making her feel like the heroes she read about in fairytales. Now he just looked tired and worn out, and a part of her feared he'd only get worse.

But she didn't think that marrying was going to fix him. Or at least, marrying just to have a wife. Gabriel didn't need someone just to help him raise kids. He needed a companion, someone like Deirdre. Who had shared Gabriel's passions and interests, someone who had been his romantic interest and his best friend. Keena didn't know anyone that could be both to the man…not yet anyway.

"Gabe" She speaks up at last. The man looks up at her and smiles.

"Yes Kiki?"

"Where were you?"

"Oh that's right! I forgot" Gabriel laughs, hitting himself lightly on his forehead "Thank you Kiki."

"You're welcome?" Keena shrugs, not sure why he's thanking her.

She didn't have any time to contemplate it either. Because Gabriel was on his feet again and digging in the pockets of his coat. With a mischievous grin he pulled something out of them, keeping it hidden from sight. "Alright then" he's saying "I've got you your Festival of Lights presents."

Immediately the sadness that had dampened the mood disappeared. The girls started squealing with excitement. The candle holder was forgotten, the girls tossing the art supplies aside and scrambling again to their feet, bouncing excitedly on their toes. Laughing Claire set aside her mug of tea and stood up as well, little Noah in her arms still. "Let us see papa!" the girls were chanting and Noah was joining in with his own "See! See!"

"Well alright then" Gabriel concedes, and he opens his hand to reveal two tiny, expertly carved horses. Knowing that it was meant for her Margaret began to clap her hands together in excitement. "Papa these are beautiful!" she tells him, taking them into her own tiny hands. Out of the two of them, Margaret looks the most like her mother. She's tall and slender and has a delicate look about her with wide doe like eyes. Keena wonders if it's hard for Gabriel to look at his daughter, she notices that ever since Dee had died the man never met his youngest daughter's eyes.

"I'm glad you like them" Gabriel replies, ruffling his daughter's hair playfully.

"Oh I love them!" Margaret insists, she clutches them close to her to prove her love. Gabriel puts his hands in his pockets again. This time he draws out a wooden box that he hands to Isabelle, who lifts the lid and peeks curiously inside. The huge grin on her face confirmed what Keena already suspected, a new paint set. Again Gabriel's hands dip back into his pockets and again he pulls out a gift. This time it's a teething ring for Noah. The two year old took his gift and began to chew industriously, a sign of approval for his father.

One last time Gabriel's hands go into his pockets. Keena feels her heart flutter a little, it was her turn it would seem. She watches as her guardian pulls out a small slip of paper and hands it to her.

"A paper?" Keena asks, disappointed.

Gabriel rolls his eyes "open it Kiki"

She does so, wondering what kind of present required a piece of paper in its place. On the paper she found _Go to the stables _written in Gabriel's scrawling, five year old, handwriting. "The stables? What did you get me that…" Keena stops herself, feeling kind of silly for not realizing it immediately. "You got me a horse didn't you?"

"Perhaps"

"Which one?" Keena asks, ignoring Gabriel's attempt to maintain the gift's "secret" status. Her heart, which had only just been fluttering when Gabriel had dipped his hands in the pocket, was now beating so rapidly and so hard that she was afraid it might just come out of her chest. Had her guardian really gotten her a horse? She had been dropping hints about wanting one for a while now, but she hadn't thought that he would take them seriously. She was only thirteen after all, still very much a child, and what child really needed her own horse? The adults sometimes needed them to make journeys to other places, for delivering messages and the such. Rarely did people own horses just to ride them. If you wanted to take a horse for a ride you just asked the owner of the horse you wanted to ride. She had no need for a horse, since she didn't deliver messages of go round up refugees, or travel (she'd never been more than a mile outside of Village's borders.)

But what else would be hidden in the stables?

"You know Whisper?" Gabriel asked.

"The white horse? Lyndon's courser?"

"That's the one."

"No way!" Keena leaps to her feet, excited. "You got Whisper?"

"I sure did" he laughed. "and he's all yours. But that means that he's your responsibility. You are going to have to brush him and feed him and make sure he's healthy."

"Oh I will! I will!" Keena was hopping from one foot to the other, barely able to contain her excitement over the prospect of a new horse. "Can I go see him now?"

"Well I don't see why not" Gabriel shrugs.

Before anyone could say anything else Keena had turned on her heel and dashed out the door. She ran so fast she didn't see Jonas until she smacked into him. The force knocked the breath out of her and sent her flying backward, she nearly fell flat on her butt. But lucky for her, Gabriel was right behind her and caught before she fell.

To be honest, she didn't understand why Isaac didn't like his father. She knew the reason he gave for why he hated him. That his father was to domineering, that he demanded too much of him, and expected him to be just like him. But Jonas didn't seem to be any of these things to her. He was a kind, mild mannered man, who was just starting, at forty two or so, to show the signs of age. A graying of his sandy brown hair, lines buried in his face. But even with these he's still a rather charming man to look upon. His pale eyes always seemed to twinkle and shine with some strange knowledge that was meant for him and him alone. He was always smiling, always cheerful, and always affectionate with everyone, whether they were and old friend or a stranger. Like Gabriel he tended to call Keena by her nickname, Kiki, and would always ruffle her hair and tease her about being the daughter of the wind or a wild child.

"Well hello Keena." He says, grinning. "Imagine running into you."

"Literally" Gabriel adds with a chuckle.

"Hello Jonas" Keena greets, rubbing her smarting nose. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to-

"Ahh no need to apologize" Jonas laughs "No harm, no foul. Though I must admit that did hurt a little. You must be growing stronger by the day."

Keena stares at the tall hulking man and wonders if anyone could possibly hurt him. It was true she was the strongest of her age-mates, she won every wrestling match they held, and could outrun even the swiftest of messengers in a race. Her friend Toulouse's father had once joked that she was built for fighting. She was a tall, muscular, broad girl, with sinewy muscles and boundless energy, perhaps if she been born in place where people had to fight, she would have excelled at it, but as it was, the most violent thing she had ever done was wrestle old Marley in the mud when a disagreement had broken out between them, one that was forgotten the very next day. Instead she channeled her strength into sports, such as running, and swimming, and riding horses. But even with such activities she was sure she didn't have enough strength to cause any real pain to Jonas, who despite being more scholarly then physical managed to be one of the strongest men in Village.

"Happy Festival of Lights Jonas!" Claire comes out of the house behind her son, her arms open wide. The woman was three years older than Jonas, though she could pass for being about three years younger than him, and had come from the same place that he had. Because of the shared history the two were rather close, and it was well known that Claire had a fondness for the man that she probably shouldn't have. After all, Jonas was a married man, and one who was absolutely devoted to his wife. But Claire had done a good job of making sure that the relationship stayed firmly platonic.

"Happy Festival of Lights Claire" Jonas embraced the woman briefly.

"What are you doing here Jonas?" Margaret asked, being naturally shy, she was hiding behind her maman's skirt.

"I'm here to see your papa."

"Something up?" Gabriel asked the man, his hands resting on Keena's shoulders. The girl tried to wiggle them off, for as much as she liked Jonas, she was in a hurry to see her horse (she had to get used to using the phrase, her horse.) But Gabriel only tightened his grip.

"Actually yes. Village has some new visitors."

"Oh? From where?"

"Prasutagus."

"What's pastagoose?" Margaret asks. Her mispronunciation made Jonas laugh.

"Prasutagus, it's a kingdom that lies south of the Vandal mountains. About a month's ride from here."

"Who are they?" Claire asks.

"Two men. Call themselves Duke Eloi and Duke Jacques. They have an important message for us from their King."

"Who is the king again?" Gabriel asks.

"I think Prasutagus' ruler is currently a man named Tristian. But I could be wrong."

"That name sounds familiar" Gabriel mutters, he turns to Claire "Where have we heard Tristian before?"

The woman only shrugged.

"Well they want to speak to the council. So I said I'd go summon them."

Keena had heard enough. She didn't care about these weird Duke guys, or the council or Prasutagus. She wanted to go ride Whisper! She'd been kept here long enough. Swiftly she managed to wrench away from her guardian's grip and started down the dirt path at a mad dash. "I'll see you guys later!" she calls back to her family "I'm going to see Whisper!"

"Be back in time for the feast!" Gabriel shouts back.

"I will!" Keena answers and following the sharp bend in the corner she starts off in the direction of the Village stables. Completely unaware that resting in the opposite direction, in the small schoolhouse sat two men that were about to change the course of her life forever.


End file.
